


A Hand to Hold Onto

by humanedisaster



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Full House AU, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kid Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7644061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanedisaster/pseuds/humanedisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the untimely death of Sam's husband Riley, his two best friends Bucky and Steve move in to help him raise his three young girls, Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda. Basically, the Full House AU no one asked for.</p>
<p>a.k.a. Four times Bucky and Steve had a misunderstanding and one time they got their shit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand to Hold Onto

**Author's Note:**

> This was both the easiest and hardest to write fic I've ever done. At times it was like pulling nails, but in the final days of writing it kind of just poured out of me. There are scenes I thought were funny, but there's a reason there's not a humor tag. Also, please don't judge me because of how obvious this fic makes it that I ship Jesse/Joey on Full House.
> 
> I was also #blessed with [secondalto's](http://secondalto.tumblr.com) [PodFic](https://soundcloud.com/katy-hart-201041025/handtoholdonto). Go check it out and make sure you shout at her about how wonderful it is in her inbox!

i.

It's not that Bucky didn’t love his honorary nieces. He loved them very much, in fact.

Natasha was headstrong and beautiful, smart as a whip. Sharon was brave and fast and graceful on her little feet. And baby Wanda was downright adorable and Bucky couldn’t wait to see what kind of woman she would become.

Sometimes, though, he just wanted to lock himself in a closet and pretend he was far, _far_ away. Like on Mars, or something.

Usually it was when they were fighting.

“DAD! SHARON STOLE MY LAST COOKIE.”

“DAD! NAT WON’T SHARE HER COOKIES WITH ME.”

Suddenly Wanda was crying and Bucky wanted nothing more than to roll himself over and pretend he wasn’t in a sky blue room with pink bunnies on the walls. It was before noon on a Saturday. A goddamn Saturday.

The day after Riley’s funeral.

-

Bucky had gotten the call at two in the morning two weeks before. He’d stumbled to bed a mere hour before with the gorgeous blond that had been sending him eyes all night from across the bar. They’d just finished round two when his phone started blaring some dumb pop song Sam had programmed as his own ringtone.

He extracted his mouth from the hip bone of the truly delicious man laying in front of him, Gary or Greg or something like that. He grunted as he rolled towards his phone and smiled an awkward apology at Glen (or maybe Garrett).

“Sam, I’m kind of busy, man.”

He heard a shuddered breath and a small sob on the other end.

“Sam? Sam, what’s wrong? Is it one of the girls?” Bucky instantly sat up and reached for his pants, tugging them on in a quick movement.

“I-It’s-I don’t-” Sam sounded wrecked. His voice was uneven and Bucky had never heard him stutter before.

Bucky scooped up his shirt and pulled it on a sleeve at a time, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging around shoulders. “Sam, where are you, I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” 

“Lenox Health in Greenwich. It’s Riley.”

- 

Riley Thompkins and Sam Wilson met in the 58th rescue squadron. Bucky hadn’t been there, but he had seen them in action. Their team was the best – had in fact saved him and what was left of the 107th after shit went FUBAR in the ‘Stan – but that didn’t stop awful things from happening. The mission that lost Bucky most of the motor function in his left arm was the same one that almost killed Riley.

Shrapnel had lodged itself in Riley’s head, which caused swelling and some minor brain damage. Bucky had kept in contact with his saviors after he and Riley were discharged and found out they both lived in New York. Bucky and Riley even went through P.T. together, with their own personal cheerleader in Sam, who had ended his military career at the end of his tour and come home to Riley.

Bucky hadn’t seen a love like theirs in a long time, not since his ma died. They were completely devoted to each other. When DADT ended, they almost immediately got married and started looking into adopting. It didn’t take them long to find Natasha – a five year old who had been been born in Russia and illegally brought to the US by child traffickers. Then a couple years later there was Sharon, who was the niece of a friend of a friend. Unfortunately her great aunt died and Sharon was left without a home, but Sam knew some people who knew some people and got the girl out of the system as fast as possible. Their newest addition was Wanda – an orphan refuge from war torn Sakovia.

When Bucky finally got to the hospital and found Sam, despondent and curled over himself in a chair, all he could picture was Riley’s face the day they got Natasha.

“Sam!” Bucky whipped around to see a tall blond man he’d never met dash down the hall to Sam, slamming into the seat next to him and curling a gentle arm around his shoulders in one quick movement. Bucky hurried along to join them, kneeling in front of Sam.

“Sam, what’s going on?”

The man finally acknowledged that they were there, looking up to meet Bucky’s eyes, then look at the blond.

“There was - I don’t understand, he-he was fine. He was standing there, making dinner and suddenly he collapsed and-and st-started con-convulsing. They-They think it has…had something to do with the shrapnel.” Sam collapsed sideways into the blond, who seemed to buckle under the weight.

Bucky frowned at stared at the door a few feet from them. “Sam, Sam,” he waited until his friend met his eyes, “Why did you say ‘had?’”

Sam’s quiet tears were the only answer he needed.

-

The funeral was three days later. Mrs. Thompkins was Jewish and had raised Riley in the faith, so Sam wanted to respect that and get his husband buried as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Riley didn’t have any family left besides Sam and the girls, so Sam had no clue whether or not there was a family burial plot. He ended up letting the Air Force take care of it, so Riley ended up at the National Cemetery in Long Island.

It was a full military service, right down to Sam receiving the folded flag and gunfire.

Bucky had thought he was done going to friends’ funerals.

Sam had let Steve and Bucky ride in the limo with him to and from the burial, which meant Bucky had to be there for his brother in arms a little longer than he expected.

Honestly, he just wanted to hit the nearest bar and drink until he passed out.

When they got home, Steve got some food on the stove and Bucky took Sam up to his room. Sam sat on his bed, Riley’s side, and pet the pillow a few times before clutching it to his chest.

“I can’t sleep without his chainsaw snoring. I don’t know what age to send Wanda to Hebrew school. What if Sharon wants to do ballet? How will I know what to get her? Nat won’t talk to me, I don’t even think she’s cried yet.” Sam looked up at Bucky, eyes red and wet with tears. “How am I gonna do this without him?”

Bucky sat next to his friend. He clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “You can send her to Hebrew School in sixth grade for Bat Mitzvah training or starting in kindergarten, that’s up to you, and her I guess. Sharon’s dance instructor will give you a list and maybe even an order form. Or I can call Becka. And you know Nat. She’ll cry when she’s good and ready, not a moment before. Sam, you’re not alone. You have me, and Steve, and your folks.”

Sam looked up from where his tears were falling to his pillow and shook his head. “I can’t make you help me raise my kids, Buck.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky flicked his friend’s ear. “When you’re feeling better, I’m gonna yell at you about that, but for now, I’ll leave it at this: Don’t be an idiot, Samuel. You’re my best friend and I love those girls just as much as I love Becka’s kids. Don’t act like it would be any kind of hardship to move in here and boss you around all the time. Take care of yourself for a while, get better, get stronger, I’ll take care of the girls-”

“Not by yourself, you won’t.” Steve came over and sat down on Sam’s other side, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Sam, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re ready.” He made eye contact with Bucky, and it was like something electric passed between them.

“We’re moving in. Until further notice.” He chucked Sam’s chin. “You don’t got a choice, Harlem. You got these two Brooklyn boys up your ass for good, now.”

-

It wasn’t until after nine that night that Bucky got to slip away. There was a nice little sports bar a couple blocks away from Sam and Ril- _Sam’s_ brownstone.

Before Sam and Riley had adopted the kids, Bucky used to meet up with Riley, and sometimes Sam, at that very bar. Riley was a great wingman for Bucky, knew just the right thing to say and his entire body screamed ‘MARRIED’ so hard that no one ever got confused as to who was hitting on whom. Who? Fuck, Bucky didn’t know. Just because he was a librarian didn’t mean he knew grammar.

The bartender chuckled and Bucky realized he’d said that all out loud.

“How long have I been here, Chet?” Chet turned Bucky’s wrist over to look at his watch.

“Just past midnight, bro.” Bucky sighed and rested his forehead on his crossed arms. Three hours and he’d already lost count of how many shots and beer chasers he’d had.

He looked around the room. For a Friday night, there wasn’t much talent. A few het couples shouting at the TVs, a few lesbian couples doing the same, one or two groups of friends. Bucky was just about to ask Chet for another round when the bell over the door sounded.

Bucky noticed the broad chest and tight waist, already ready to lay his charms on the guy until proven straight, before he got a good look at his face.

Steve.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Bucky got laid by one of Sam’s college friends. Bucky waved him over, and wow, he must be drunker than he thought, because he almost fell out of his chair.

“Stevie! I didn’t think I’d see you here!” Steve shook his head at Bucky’s antics, frowned when Bucky got Chet’s attention and wordlessly asked for another shot.

The blond settled in the chair next to Bucky and grabbed the shot before Bucky could. He handed it back to Chet and said, “No more for him, sir.”

Chet sort of balked at getting called ‘sir’ before dazedly nodding and wandering away.

Bucky turned to glare at Steve. “Excuse you. I’m sixty-five percent certain that if I stop drinking now, I will remember this evening in the morning and I’d really rather not.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Bucky, I covered for you with the girls and Sam, but it’s after midnight. You need to come home and get to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, not least of all moving into the house and moving the girls around.”

Bucky looked hard at Steve. God, was he pretty. Sure, he was handsome, very classically so, with his square chin and long, narrow nose. But his blond hair and airy blue eyes. _Christ._ And that _ass_. And that’s not even to mention the man’s arms. And pecks.

There was not an inch of that man that Bucky didn’t want to lick. 

He moved forward so he had a leg on either side of Steve’s left leg, leaving him free to move away from the bar if he wanted. He placed his hand on the knee between his own, slowly sliding it up Steve’s thigh. Placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder, he moved forward until his mouth was almost touching Steve’s ear, his lower lip actually brushing the lobe as he spoke. “Will you tuck me in?”

Bucky felt Steve’s face and neck grow hot and the man tensed all over in warning before craning his head away like a confused dog. “Bucky – I – no – I – This is inappropriate.”

In his drunken state, Bucky couldn’t help but break out laughing, which made Steve glare at him. 

“I’ve hit on straight guys before, but your reaction was probably the funniest I’ve gotten.”

Steve dropped his mouth open and then snapped it closed. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, Bucky.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and rose from his chair. “Whatever.”

-

Bucky groaned at his ceiling before rolling out of bed and standing himself up. He pulled on his suit pants from the day before, followed by the now wrinkled button-up. He fussed with his hair for a moment in the mirror before heading down the stairs. He came out into the kitchen, saw Steve standing behind the counter, methodically making pancakes, and instantly flicked his gaze away.

The girls seemed to have calmed down, though Sharon was pouting and Nat had her arms crossed in a determined manner. Steve also seemed to have calmed Wanda down, as the baby was happily slapping at her high-chair table.

“Morning.” They all chorused similar responses. He lightly tousled Sharon’s hair, tugged at one of Nat’s locks, and gave Wanda raspberries. “Did I miss Sam?”

Steve nodded and handed Bucky a plate with a stack of pancakes. “He set a record today. Four a.m.” 

Bucky shook his head.

Ever since Riley had died Sam had started going on his morning run earlier and earlier. He used to go after the girls left for school, would run an hour circuit and be back in time for Wanda’s late morning bottle.

Now they were lucky if he was still there when they got up or back by lunch.

Bucky made quick work of the pancakes he was given and got to work on the dishes, adding to them as the girls finished and brought him their plates. Once the only plate that was left was Steve’s, he sat back down at the table and picked through the newspaper.

The scrape of fork on plate made Bucky lookup. Steve sheepishly put down his fork and held Bucky’s gaze.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Bucky blushed and moved the paper so it blocked the blond’s view of his face. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I just don’t want you to think…I don’t want you to think it was about _you_. I can get that that’s how some people…deal with loss, but I don’t. I mean. I’m not.” 

“It’s whatever, Steve. You’re not into guys, I get it.”

“No, I am, it’s just-”

Bucky rolled his eyes and set down the paper. “Steve, you do not owe me an explanation about your sexuality or anything. I was drunk, you were not, I was a grieving, you made the right call. It’s not your fault that you’re my type.”

“Right, I just-”

“Uncle Bucky?” Natasha saved Bucky from having to continue this torturous conversation by appearing in the doorway.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“The TV’s doing that thing again?” Bucky nodded and stood up, following the nine year old into the living room.  


ii.

Bucky had had a very long, tiring day at the library. It was time for their yearly inventory and he had been working his ass off to get it finished before the end of the week. He laid back on his bed and picked up the book off his bedside table.

He had just opened to where he had left off when their was a small knock on his door.

“Uncle Bucky?” Nat ducked her head through the door. “There’s a man here to see you.”

Bucky wracked his brain for any reason he’d have a visitor after five on a weekday and couldn’t come up with anything. A large blond man with biceps the size of Bucky’s not inconsiderable thighs peaked his head around the corner.

“Halló? I’m Thor Masterson. Mr. Jones at the library said I could find you here.” The man was downright gorgeous. Long dusky blond hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, tailored suit showing off broad shoulders and, y'know, the aforementioned biceps. He was easily over six feet tall. Long story short, Bucky wanted to climb the man like a tree.

“Gabe sent you?” It suddenly clicked in Bucky’s mind. The Icelander from the Norse Literature Institution. Shit. “Right! I’m so sorry, I forgot about our meeting! It’s been so hectic at the library the past couple days.”

Thor shook his head and silently asked if he could sit. Bucky moved his legs and sat up. “It’s no problem, Mr. Barnes. Please, though, let me say how lovely your nieces are. They were very polite.”

Bucky smiled. “Please, call me Bucky. And yeah, Sam's done a good job with them.” Hot and sweet. Good Lord, Bucky didn’t stand a chance with this guy. “So, along with our meeting time, the reason for our meeting has fled my mind?” 

Thor smiled and leaned back a little on Bucky’s bed. “The Institute sent me to borrow some of your older texts. There’s some paperwork you need to sign for the Interlibrary Loan Office. But I can’t very well receive my texts from your bedroom, now can I?”

Bucky grimaced. “Sorry, again. How about, as an apology, I take you out to dinner?”

“That would be great, I find myself quite lost in this city.” Thor smiled at Bucky and he couldn’t help but hope he might get lucky tonight.

-

“…and then Dum Dum just vomits everywhere!” Bucky finished his story as he opened the front door and Thor’s laughter echoed through the living room. Bucky turned to face the Icelander and curled a hand around his bicep. He curved his body forward into the other man’s space and gave a small smile. “You know, I had a great time tonight.”

“As did I, Bucky. Your company has been most pleasing.” Thor’s eyes flickered to Bucky’s lips before settling back on his eyes. “Shall I pick you up tomorrow on my way to the library?”

Bucky let his smile grow into one of his more seductive smirks. “Or you could stay the night.”

A blush developed on Thor’s face and Bucky’s smirk turned a little more cocky. Thor cleared his throat. “I can not. I’m afraid I have another meeting. But we will see each other tomorrow, já?”

Bucky reluctantly let go of the man’s – large, so large, God he just wanted to bite it – bicep and took a step back. “I suppose. Does eight sound good?”

“I will be here then. Good night.” Thor gave another lingering look to Bucky’s lips before nodding and heading down the walkway. Damn, Bucky hated to see him leave, but loved to watch that ass walk away.

-

“Bucky? You have a, uh…visitor?”

Bucky had woken to the sharp knock on his door and frantically pulled his blankets up around his neck at the sound of Steve’s voice.

Steve was looking at him with an odd glint in his eye, almost like he was angry, but didn’t want to be. He jerked his head towards the stairs. “I think you woke up late.”

Bucky whipped his head around to look at his alarm clock. It glared a bright green “08:15” at him. “ _Shit._ ” He jumped out of bed, ignoring that he’d fallen asleep in the buff, and leaped at his dresser, looking for pants. “Can you just distract him for, oh, maybe fifteen minutes? I don’t care if he knows I’m late, I just don’t want him to get bored.”

He looked up to see Steve’s entire face as red as a tomato and staring intently at the ceiling. “Yep! Right! Of course! I’ll just go do that!” He did a one-eighty and slammed into the doorway on his way out.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s antics. Honestly, it wasn’t like it was the first time he’d seen a penis. He had one, for Christ’s sake, and it's not like Bucky was hard or anything, it was a basic flaccid penis.

Bucky pulled on a pair of dress pants and ran over to his closet, pulled out his favorite button up shirt – the steel gray one that brought out his eyes – and frantically shoved his arms into it.

Goddammit! Right now was not the time for a bad day with his motor function! He struggled with the buttons with his shaking left hand before giving up.

“Nat!” Bucky ran across the hall to his niece’s bedroom. 

Natasha looked up from her homework – _double checking it, the little nerd,_ Bucky thought fondly  – and took in Bucky standing there with his shirt hanging open. “Need help with the button’s again, Uncle Bucky?”

“Yeah, and I’m kinda in a rush, Nat.” The ten year old stood and made quick work of her honorary uncle’s buttons. He smacked a kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks, Nat! I'll buy you those shoes you wanted!”

With a quick stop back into his room to grab his waistcoat and jacket, he ran down the back stairs two at a time. When he got to the kitchen, he stole one of Sam’s waffles and his coffee, downing half of both before he hit the door leading to the living room. He passed the coffee cup to Sharon as they crossed paths and fed the half of the waffle to Redwing. He didn’t spare a second glance at his niece’s disgruntled face, merely ruffled her hair.

Thor and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing uproariously. Steve was even clutching Thor’s chest and slapping his knee. Bucky bit down on whatever inconvenient feeling was bubbling in his chest and slapped a work grin on his face.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Thor, I guess my alarm didn’t go off, or something.”

They both turned their beaming grins to him, and damn if Bucky didn’t want to be the brunette filling in that blonde Oreo.

“It is fine, Bucky. Your friend Steven, here, has been great entertainment while I waited.” He patted Steve on the knee and stood. “I’ll see you later, Captain.”

Steve smiled at Thor and stood. “Yeah, it’s a date.” He nodded to Bucky and headed into the kitchen, no doubt to make sure the girls ate a balanced breakfast.

Bucky watched him leave through the swinging door and felt his heart drop to his stomach. Steve had a date with Thor? He shook his head. No, what’s upsetting here is that _Thor_ has a date with _Steve_. Thor, the guy he was vibing with pretty hard last night, had made plans with his so-called friend. Plans that they were calling a date.

God, could this day get any worse?

-

It turns out that Bucky’s day had only just begun to _suck_ . _Hard_.

After filling out paperwork for the inter-library loan and handing the ancient seeming books over to Thor, Bucky got a flood of calls and walk-in meetings about this, that, and the other. He was on his feet all day, fielding off angry patrons and not one, not two, but fucking _five_ donors called and he had to schmooze them over the phone for over an hour each. One of which was Pepper, which wouldn’t have been so bad if Tony hadn’t taken the phone and been all _Tony_ about it.

At lunch he dropped his hot dog from the street vendor down the front of his shirt, leaving ketchup smeared down the slate gray.

On his way home, the downside of Thor driving him to work bit him in the ass. The fucking F train broke down, making a three minute train ride into a half hour train pit stop on a forty minute walk home.

By the time he actually got home, he wanted to disappear into a gallon of ice cream and dig his way back out.

He flopped onto the couch and groaned. He would have groaned out a swear, but Wanda was slamming some blocks together in her mesh net, box frame, baby cage thing a couple feet away.

The little girl looked up at the noise and grinned her gummy mouth at him. The stress sort of just melted away after that. He picked himself up and went over to her, picking her up when she raised her little arms to him.

“How was your day, Wanda? Because Uncle Bucky’s sucked a big one.” He blew a raspberry on her neck, making her giggle. He looked into her big brown eyes and smiled.

She smiled back and patted his face with clumsy toddler hands. “Buck-Buck sad.”

Bucky plopped back onto the couch, careful not to jostle Wanda too much. She settled against his chest, grabbing a strand of hair to gently hold onto. He rubbed small circles into her back, felt the rise and fall of her little chest under his hand.

Before he knew it, they were both asleep.

-

“Bucky!” A whispered voice woke him from a dream involving a sledgehammer and Tony Stark’s smirking face, which, while probably better for his psyche, made him grumpy in the moment. “ _Bucky!_ ”

Bucky cracked an eye to see Sam hovering above him, a gentle smile on his face. He gestured to the baby in Bucky’s arms. “It’s time for Wanda to get to bed.”

Bucky nodded and gently shifted her into a position that Sam could easy pick her up from without waking her. Sam eased her onto his shoulder and then jerked his head towards the kitchen. “Steve left some left overs for you in the microwave before he left.”

Bucky felt himself freeze, but made himself loosen back up. “Thanks,” he said, brushing a few hairs out of Wanda’s face. He tried to smile at Sam, but feared it came out more of a grimace.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You wanna talk about it?” One of his large thumbs was rubbing in circles at the small of Wanda’s back, his body bouncing slowly from side to side. 

Sam – with or without Riley – was meant to be a dad. He knew everything there was to know about colic and constipation and bullies and braids. His girls loved him fiercely. Though, Bucky figured that everyone loved Sam fiercely. He instilled a sort of loyalty that was hard to find anywhere else. And he was so kind and smart and funny.

Before Sam, Bucky had never met anyone that could keep up with his ribbing.

Why couldn’t Bucky have fallen for him?  


iii. 

“DAD!” Sam looked up the stairs at Sharon’s call, half way through ironing a button down shirt.

Bucky put his finger to his nose. “She said, ‘Dad,’ not, ‘Uncle Bucky.’”

Sam rolled his eyes and set the iron on the table. As he passed Bucky, he whacked him on the head. “Thanks, Barnes.” 

Bucky rubbed the back of his head and grinned beatifically up at him. “No prob, Wilson.” 

Sam had just gotten to the foot of the stairs when Sharon arrived at the landing. She stumbled down the last few steps, falling into Sam’s open arms. “Daddy, I don’t feel so good.” 

Bucky stood at the announcement and walked over, noticing Steve doing the same. Sam reached out with an open palm. He frowned as his hand made contact with Sharon’s sweaty forehead. “Honey, you’re burning up.”

“Let me see,” Bucky interjected, reaching forward for himself. Sharon’s sweat instantly made his hand moist and heat radiated into his palm. 

“And I’ve got pimples. But I thought I was too young. I can’t go through puberty when I’m sick!” Sharon presented her tummy, glaring at the little blisters spattered across it.

Sam looked to Bucky, who looked to Steve, who grimaced.

“Those would be chicken pox.”

-

“How have neither of you had chickenpox?” Steve asked, as Sam rubbed calamine lotion on his middle child. He was wearing his dishwashing gloves and a medical mask and Bucky would have laughed if he hadn’t been so concerned for Sharon. 

The little girl was close to tears and frowning at Steve, who was cutting her nails as close to the quick as he could without hurting her.

“I don’t know, man. I got the vaccine when I was a kid, I figure that took care of it.” Sam smiled down at Sharon and capped the tube of lotion closed. “That should make you feel better, sweetheart. Uncle Steve’s almost done with your nails, but if any of us catch you itching, you’ll have to wear the oven mitts.”

Sharon nodded forlornly and poked at the mask on her father’s face. “Why are you wearing that, Daddy?”

Sam smacked a kiss on her finger through the fake paper-cotton. “Because Daddy’s got an important meeting tomorrow and he’s never had the chicken pox. But I want to spend time with you and this makes it so I don’t breathe in any of those nasty germs.”

Sharon smiled. “Thanks, Daddy.” 

Bucky bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too broadly and nodded to Steve who seemed to have the same idea as him.

They left Sam with his daughter, who was asking him about the interview he had.

After they had gotten into the hall and Steve had closed the door, he looked to Bucky. “So, how have you never had chicken pox?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. All my sisters had it, my parents were too poor to afford the vaccine. I should have gotten it, just didn’t. Maybe I’m immune?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Sure. Either way, I have to start dinner. You make sure to avoid Sharon’s room and make sure Wanda doesn’t wander in. The chicken pox can be fatal for babies.”

-

The next morning, Bucky was awoken by his own body. For a second he thought he had fallen out of bed because his entire body hurt like a fucker. He rubbed his hand against his temple as he woozily sat up, fully prepared to call in sick.

He groped for the phone on his bedside table, barely getting the phone out of the cradle before it fell to the floor. And christ did he regret that because the dial tone was obnoxiously _loud_ even from a few feet away.

He flopped back down and rolled onto his stomach, grabbing the kinked cord that led from the receiver to the cradle. Bucky blearily dialed the number for the library and waited for Dugan to pick up.

“New York Public Library, this is Tim Dugan. How may I direct your call?”

“Dum Dum, it’s Bucky. I’m not coming in today, I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

Dugan hummed on the other side of the line. “Right-o, boss. Get better soon!” He promptly hung up and Bucky rolled back on his side.

He must have dozed back into dreamland, because he woke up an undetermined amount of time later to a knock at his door. He cracked an eye open and saw a blurry Steve peeking his head through a cracked door.

“Buck, did your alarm not go off? You’re already late for work.”

Bucky moaned and whimpered out, “No work. Sick.”

Steve pulled the blanket off his head. He went to touch Bucky’s forehead – probably to check his temperature, the man had the uncanny ability to tell you exactly what your temperature was down to the tenths place – but recoiled and grimaced. “Shit, Bucky! You have chickenpox!” 

“Huh?” He lifted up his arm and noticed the blisters. “Shit.” 

Steve sighed. “I’ll get you some soup and the calamine lotion.” 

Bucky must have dozed off again, because he could have sworn Steve never left his room. But there he was, table tray with soup and water and a jug of calamine lotion tucked under his arm.

“You sure yer not a saint, Stevie?” Bucky slurred, going for the spoon on his tray. All he managed to do was jostle the soup bowl and spill some of the broth over the edge.

Steve gently batted away Bucky’s hands. “Let me.”

“But Sharon?”

Steve rolled his eyes and eased the spoon between Bucky’s parted lips. “Two things: One, Sharon has a doting father feeding her her own soup as we speak. Two, chicken pox is one of those few diseases that affect adults way worse than kids. Kids basically just get itchy and dehydrated. For adults, it’s more like an awful flu.”

Bucky swallowed down another spoonful and looked at Steve. “And how’d you know that?”

“My mother was a nurse.” He paused for a moment, giving Bucky another spoonful, two, before focusing on the bowl and added, “And I was a pretty sickly kid.”

Bucky looked up at him around the next spoonful, contemplating Steve’s way better than average physique. He raised an eyebrow. “How sickly? ‘Cause I’m not gettin’ that from all this.”

Steve gave a sort of bitter little smile. He set down the empty bowl, spoon resting inside at a precise ten o’clock from Bucky’s perspective. Bucky had noticed that Steve had those sort of impeccable table manners that made him roll his eyes. “Really sickly. I mean, I’m still color blind, nearly blind period, without my contacts. I’m still hard of hearing. I had scoliosis, anemia, and I had rheumatic fever as a kid which gave me arrhythmia. It’s all really treatable nowadays and I’m used to the things that aren’t. But I also had asthma and stomach ulcers and every rare and ridiculous and supposedly eradicated-in-North-America disease I could. I've gotten the mumps and bird flu and swine flu and lyme disease and honestly, I still have issues with my immune system.”

Bucky had grown more and more anxious as Steve listed his ailments. He wanted to wrap the guy in bubble wrap and shove him in a sterile room. “If you have all that going on, how in the hell do you look like this?”

Steve’s bitter smile turned into an angry frown. “Hard work. Dedication to my health. A brilliant doctor and great man giving a poor kid from Brooklyn a chance and admitting him to his experimental drug trial despite the good chance he’d lose funding. You know, Bucky, not everyone is blessed with a great metabolism and perfect immune system. And the idea that health and beauty or attractiveness are somehow synonymous is completely ableist and ignorant.”

“I think the fact that I’m sitting here shivering under a comforter, covered in chicken pox proves just how imperfect my immune system is,” Bucky said, wincing when he was done, because Christ. Way to say the worst fucking thing. He should have apologized and explained what he meant.

Steve went completely stiff. “Right.”

He all but shoved himself off the bed and grabbed the tray, grabbed the glass of water off of it and left it on Bucky’s bedside table. He left the room, closed the door delicately, so as to not slam it and left Bucky feeling like an utter fucking douchebag.

-

It took a couple days of itchy skin and aching joints, but Bucky got better. Sharon actually recovered faster, just in time for her karate tournament. Sam was just happy that he wouldn’t have to hold her down to keep her from trying to escape to the dojo.

Bucky thought Sharon generally got the better end of the stick, because a couple parents actually brought their kids over to play with Sharon, so they’d get the chicken pox young, not a weird age like Bucky, which meant Sharon wasn’t as bored as she thought she’d be. Bucky, on the other hand, mostly rolled around in bed trying to read and finding it hard to focus. Dum Dum called a couple times to keep him up to date on the ‘goings on of the library’ but mostly just gossiped about Peggy and Angie from the dinner's little will-they-won't-they dance and how Mortia couldn’t find a date for his cousin’s wedding.

Steve avoided Bucky’s room like he had the plague, not a simple illness he couldn’t even get again. Nat delivered Steve-prepared food, made sure he had enough fluids, and generally took care of him like a good little nurse, even though she grumbled through the entire process. Or maybe because she did.

On top of the aching joins and intense itchiness, Bucky spent the better part of the week feeling like an utter dick. Due to his own dealings with his arm and the feelings of worthlessness and ineptitude that had followed his injury during P.T., he knew what it was like to deal with feeling lesser because of something he couldn’t control. He knew what it took for Steve to open up about his illness ridden childhood and the dedication it took and vulnerability it caused to work past your body’s limits the way Steve no doubt had.

It wasn’t until Bucky had managed to get down into the kitchen for breakfast, five days after Steve had noticed the blisters on Bucky and fed him soup by hand, that he actually saw Steve face to face, again.

Steve looked up at his entrance, then quickly back down to the scrambled eggs he was preparing. Bucky sighed and tried to muster up the amount of energy it would take to navigate himself through this next interaction. 

The entire situation was entirely too much alike the morning after the day of the funeral. Steve cooking and avoiding Bucky’s gaze, Bucky stubbornly ignoring the metaphorical hat in his own hands. Neither of them saying anything until the kids cleared out.

“Listen, Steve-” Bucky began, crossing his arms, then thinking better of it and dropping them to his sides.

Steve stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “For once, Bucky, I’m going to admit you weren’t necessarily in the wrong.” Bucky went to interject, but Steve cut him off before he could form words. “Which is not to say you’re right, or I’m wrong, but…I tend to be defensive when it comes to…well, Sam calls it ‘Tiny Steve.’” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “You were sick, and not at your best, and I know you’re not vain or ableist and I owe you an apology for implying that you are, and for the awful things I said in my head about you.”

Bucky blinked a few times, trying to blink away the numbness he suddenly felt at Steve’s apology. “What kind of awful things?” tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Steve rolled his eyes. “And we’re right back on track.” 

“Listen, I’m sorry. Fever and grogginess be damned, I should have been more…sensitive to what you were saying to me. I mean, of all people, I get working past your body’s limits to gain a sense of normalcy, whatever the fuck that means, and I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Bucky paused for a moment and then smirked, inflecting a teasing voice as he continued, “Besides, who am I to question however you became the utter eye-candy you are today?”

A blush bloomed stretched up Steve’s neck and over his cheeks. He frowned and rebutted, “You’re such a horn-dog, Buck.”

Bucky smiled and started the dishes, wondering to himself where exactly that blush began on Steve.

 

iv. 

“Hey, Pegs! How’re you doing?” Bucky paused in opening the door between the kitchen and the living room. If Steve was calling Peggy, it was personal, and with Steve, if it was personal, the only real way of knowing what was going on with him was to eavesdrop. “That’s great! But, hey I was actually wondering what you’re doing for New Year’s Eve?”

The pause on Steve’s end of the phone was long and palpable and made Bucky squirm. Steve usually wasn’t one to fall to peer pressure, but between Sam having a date with T’Challa and Bucky having a date with (…Paul? Percy? No,) Peter, Steve must have been desperate to not watch the ball drop on his own. Peggy and him had only just recently been able to be friends again, after their not messy but definitely not clean break-up.

“Oh.” The dejection in Steve’s voice made Bucky flinch and brought him back to the present. “No, I didn’t even mean it like that, anyway, it was just as friends. But, yeah, no, have fun with Angie! And you’ll have to bring her around sometime, I have to make sure my best girl is being taken care of properly.”

After a few goodbyes, Bucky heard Steve set the phone down on the receiver and decided to make his presence known.

Steve had an address book laid out in front of him, thumbing through the pages as he scanned them for prospective dates. Bucky bit his lip and frowned. If Bucky hadn’t already had a date, he would have asked Steve to the party himself. As friends, of course. Bucky had learned his lesson not to expect anything more than friendship from Steve and wasn’t going to set himself up for another rejection. As it was, though, Bucky wasn’t the kind of guy to ditch out on a commitment just a few hours in advance. As bad as he felt that Steve would, in all likelihood, be spending New Year’s Eve alone, Bucky didn’t want to risk losing a sure thing for a friend who had made his feelings quite clear. Especially since he already knew he was lucky that he hadn’t scared Steve off for good the last time.

“Having a hard time with the dating pool?”

Steve jumped and quickly slammed the address book shut. “No! No, I’m just…I decided to catch up with some old friends that I may have lost contact with, is all.”

Bucky was going to respond, but instead turned when he heard the front door open, admitting Sam and T’Challa. Sam was holding a stuffed bear that was probably bigger than Nat, Sharon, and Wanda put together. Bucky smirked and tugged on the bear’s ear when Sam came into range. “How went the date?”

“Great!” Sam set the teddy next to Steve on the couch, “T’Challa won Mr. Bear here at the Test Your Strength booth.” He noticed the phone and address book in front of Steve. “How went the date _search_?”

Steve glared at Sam, then Bucky when he barked out a laugh. He sighed and gave up on the anger, leaning back on the couch and throwing an arm over his face. Bucky felt a pang, his whole body wanted to comfort Steve, despite the fact that his head knew the gesture would be rebuked. “Not well. But I still have C through Z left. There’s gotta be someone without a date for New Year’s.”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. Bear is free?”

Bucky ducked back into the kitchen, thrown address book hitting the door instead of his head.

-

A few hours later and Bucky was honestly concerned that he was going to end up spending New Year’s with Sam and T’Challa and their budding romance all by himself. Well, his date would be there, but it wasn’t the same as Steve and the teasing looks they tossed each other when one of them would do something particularly saccharine.  

It wasn’t that either of them weren’t happy for Sam, because honestly, if anyone deserved to find happiness and love it was that guy, but Sam was a full blown romantic and T’Challa wasn’t much better. Even since they’d stopped their dancing around and finally gotten together, they did nothing but dote on each other, and in T’Challa’s case, the kids as well.

Wanda had been her usual amount of standoffish at first, nervous around new people, refusing to spend any time with T’Challa unless Steve was right there with her. Not even Sam could convince her to, as if she knew his bias. Sharon had been pretty easy going about it once T’Challa had explained to her that he knew some various martial arts, as she had grown more and more obsessed with her Karate class as time passed. As always, Nat was aloof, neither distant or warm with T’Challa, waiting for him to show how much he cared about Sam, how much he was willing to dedicate himself to her father and sisters before allowing herself to grow attached.

The jury was still out on whether or not Sam and T’Challa were going to spend the rest of their lives together, but Bucky had a feeling in his gut that they were in it for the long haul.

If only Bucky could be so lucky.

His reverie was broken by his personal line ringing. He grabbed the phone and answered, “Bucky speaking?”

“Hey, Bucky.” It was Peter. He stretched out the vowels in his greeting and sounded really awkward. Bucky looked up at the clock and saw that it was about a half an hour before Bucky was supposed to pick him up for the New Year’s party.

Bucky sighed. “You’re cancelling, aren’t you?”

“I’m so sorry, something came up.” Peter sounded so distraught that Bucky almost believed him. Almost, because it was then that he heard a moan, too loud and too clear to be anything but Peter actively getting laid while on the phone with Bucky.

He rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like he actually had _feelings_ or anything for Peter, he was just an attractive guy that asked Bucky out for a night that no one liked to be single for. But Bucky didn’t like being left hanging and he certainly didn’t like being lied to. “Right. Something like your dick?”

Bucky slammed the receiver onto the cradle. He got off his bed and started to make his way to the kitchen.

He needed fucking ice cream.

-

Bucky was scooping out a fourth chunk of Moose Tracks when what sounded like a herd of Wildebeest came down the back stairwell.

Nat and Clint were in the lead, Nat shouting for her dad the whole way, followed by Sharon, who was also yelling for Sam. Closing up the rear was Wanda, who was shouting, “Wait for me, wait for me, I have little legs!” Her older sisters either didn’t hear her over the commotion they were making themselves or were ignoring her. Either way, Bucky wasn’t in the mood for their antics.

“Hey! Girls! And Clint. Where’s the fire?”

Nat huffed and blew her feathered bangs out of her face. “Clint’s having a party at his house tonight and I promised to babysit the brats. Can’t we just stick them in Redwing’s cage for a few hours? I’ll pop on the T.V. and give them snacks and everything.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s mean, Nat, and you know it. Plus if C.P.S. ever found out you’d all get taken from Sam.”

Nat groaned and tossed her hands in the air. “It’s not fair!” 

“Well, life usually isn’t fair, but you’re lucking out tonight, kiddo. My date just called and cancelled on me, so I’ll watch the girls.” Bucky set about dousing his already pretty chocolatey ice cream with more chocolate.

If he couldn’t drown his sorrows in booze, he sure as hell could in cocoa goodness. 

“Thanks, Uncle Bucky! You’re a lifesaver!”

He shrugged, “No biggie, Nat. If you wanna thank anyone, you should thank that a-” he cut himself off as he made eye contact with Wanda, who was studying him and his ice cream intently, “ _butthead_ who cancelled on me.”

“Honestly, Barnes. Your lack of game has saved our night, for which we are eternally grateful.” Clint patted Bucky’s shoulder, then rested his hand there, smiling up at the older man.

Bucky glared at the hand on him. “Hands to yourself, Barton.” He looked between Nat and Clint for a moment before turning back to the boy. “And that applies for _all night_.” 

Natasha made a disgusted sound. “Gross! Uncle Bucky, he’s my best friend!”

“ _Thanks_ , Nat.” Clint frowned at Nat. “I think my heart just grew three sizes.”

The two teens continued to banter as they went back up the stairs, leaving Bucky to roll his eyes and offer to share his ice cream with his two younger nieces.

-

“Who has two thumbs and got himself a date for the New Year’s Party?” Steve came sliding into the kitchen at his own pronouncement, holding up two thumbs around his beaming face. “This guy!”

Bucky felt his heart drop into his stomach. He’d been quietly hoping that Steve wouldn’t find someone in time and would end up hanging with him and the girls tonight. He tried to shake off the disappointment and forced a smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?” And they were lucky, damn were they lucky. With Steve’s dimples and laugh and _ass_ and those damn bluer than blue eyes, anyone going on a date with Steve was so goddamn lucky.

“Tony! He called about something to do with the gallery he’s been putting together for a charity banquet and we got talking and I happened to mention I was flying free tonight and he asked me out!” Steve told the story at a speed almost faster than light, he seemed so excited. He sat at the counter, but was radiating so much excited energy that he was almost vibrating on his stool.

Bucky blinked a few times and tried really hard not to vomit into the caramel he was melting for the popcorn that Wanda liked. “That’s great, Stevie! I knew an ass like that wouldn’t be partying alone tonight!”

_That’s right Barnes, just cover up your heart ache with disgusting comments about his body, like Steve was just a hunk of beef you once hit on while drunk, not the guy you’d been pining after for three years._ He looked back down to the caramel and saw his left hand was shaking around the wooden spoon it held. He let it go and dropped his hand to his side, fisting it into his pocket when it didn’t stop the tremors. 

“I’m just happy I was able to pull it together for that triple date Sam wanted!” Steve leaned forward and grabbed a carrot stick from the platter Bucky had already prepared, dipped it in the french onion dip. It was only then that he seemed to notice the feast of snack foods Bucky had surrounding him on the island. “What’s all this food for, anyway?”

Bucky shrugged. “For the girls, and yeah, that date’s still only gonna be a double. Peter called and cancelled.” Steve frowned and looked like he was gonna say something that was gonna piss Bucky off, so he shut it down. The last thing he needed was Steve’s fucking pity. “It’s fine, he was a dick, anyway. I’m pretty sure he was fucking someone when he called me.”

And then Steve looked outraged, which was infinitely better than pitying. “That’s disgusting. And rude. And you can totally do better than him, Buck.”

It took a lot of effort on Bucky’s part to not say the first thought that popped into mind, something along the lines of no one being better than Steve, but that would have been pathetic and Steve would have blushed and frowned all serious and gently rejected him the same way he did before. So instead, Bucky simply sighed and went back to the caramel.

“Seriously, Buck. You’re beyond smart, more handsome than most of the guys I know, you care so much about people, about the girls and Sam, and me, even. You’re loyal and dedicated and hardworking. You could have any guy you wanted!”

This time Bucky couldn’t stop his overactive mouth. “Clearly not ‘any guy.’” He snapped his mouth shut and focused intensely on the task at hand, sure that if he looked at Steve he would get every bit the reaction he predicted.

He was so focused, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Steve slammed his hand down on the counter. “That Peter guy doesn’t know what he’s missing! Gamora told me he’s a dick, anyway.”

Bucky managed to stop himself from correcting him, tell him he didn't mean Peter, and instead asked, “Gamora?”

“Well, yeah, she’s friends with Peter.” Steve was picking at his nails, which he only did when he had something to hide. “I mentioned to her you had gone out with him a couple times and she said he was a dick.”

“I was unaware you knew any of Peter’s friends, let alone friends with any of them.”

Steve shrugged. “Not really, just passing acquaintances. She’s one of Tony’s security higher ups and I chat with her sometimes.” He kept picking at his nails, then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped himself. “Anyway, I’m sure Tony knows someone he can set you up with! What about Rhodey?”

Bucky had to physically restrain himself from letting out a giant guffaw at that. Everyone besides Tony and Rhodey knew that they were desperately in love with each other. Well, everyone but Steve, apparently. “Nah, Nat got invited to a party and I decided to let her go, told her I’d babysit the rugrats.” He turned the stove off and moved the small pot to a cool burner. “I kinda just wanna lick my wounds tonight, anyway.” 

Steve seemed reluctant for a moment, and Bucky wondered if he’s cancel his date if he asked him. If he’d stay home with him and the girls and watch Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, help him carry them to bed when they passed out, meet him under the mistletoe no one had cared to take down since Christmas…

Bucky shook himself out of the day dream, fully aware nothing like that would happen, so there was no point. He forced another smile in Steve’s direction and shooed him out of the kitchen.

-

The evening went pretty much exactly as Bucky expected it. Sharon and Wanda gorged themselves on the snacks – mostly deceptively healthy – Bucky had provided, dancing to the music coming from the TV and getting more and more excited as midnight approached. 

It wasn’t until about a half an hour before midnight that the night went haywire. Nat and Clint came stomping through the kitchen first, Clint clearly frustrated and Nat amused.

“I thought you guys were having a party next door?” Bucky asked, popping another cherry tomato into his mouth.

Clint shrugged. “My foster dad was a little…upset when the cops were called?”

“A little upset?” Nat turned to Bucky and was all but giggling as she said, “The cops kicked out nearly four hundred kids. Clint’s foster dad said that he’s grounded for all of 1991.”

Clint rolled his eyes and nabbed some of the cheddar popcorn. “Whatever, it’s not like it’ll stick.”

Nat shoved at him and rolled her own eyes. “You just don’t care because you only come here and he basically counts this as your house, too.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the teenagers and was just about to offer them some of the punch he made when the front door burst open. Sam and T’Challa came in, quickly followed by Steve and Tony.

“Hey, kids!” Sam shouted, clearly just over the line of tipsy. T’Challa had to grab his shoulder to keep him from tripping down the stairs into the living room. Nevertheless, Wanda and Sharon went running to their father and Nat shot him a small wave.

Bucky had to look away from the group of newcomers after he noticed that Tony had an arm around Steve’s waist. Eyes focused on the TV, he asked, “What are you guys doing back so early?”

Steve plopped down next to him on the couch and grabbed a tomato. “We decided we wanted to ring the New Year in with our family.” He nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, smiling at the snort the gesture prompted from Bucky.

“Well isn’t that sweet.” Bucky’s voice was sardonic as hell, but his stomach had actually filled with a warm, fluttery feeling.

By the time they had all settled around the TV, the countdown was beginning. Dick Clark counting down… 

_“10…”_

Sam and T’Challa pressed their foreheads together, whispering so closely their lips were brushing with every word.

_“9…”_

Clint grabbed Nat’s hand and pointed at something on the TV with the other.

_“8…”_

Redwing came around the couch to lean on Bucky’s leg, laying his white and red head on Bucky’s knee.

_“7…”_

Sharon cuddled Wanda into her lap, resting her chin on the crown of the toddler’s head.

_“6…”_

Steve stretched an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

_“5…”_

Tony rested a square palm on Steve’s knee.

_“4…”_

Bucky leaned forward onto his knees, avoiding Steve’s warm touch against his back.

_“3…”_

He focused hard on the TV, trying desperately to ignore the fact that Steve and Tony were getting closer and closer together.

_“2…”_  

He abruptly stood, grabbing up his two youngest nieces, who giggled through,

_“1…Happy New Year!”_

He gave Sharon a fierce little peck on the cheek, then quickly turned to blow a raspberry into Wanda’s neck. The two of them were still giggling as he set them back on the ground. 

Bucky very pointedly did not look at anyone in the room as he went into the kitchen, straight through, up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He’d had e-fucking-nough of this goddamned holiday.

 

v.

If Sam knew how many times Bucky had locked his door and climbed out onto the roof of the porch with a pack of smokes and a fifth of vodka, Bucky would have to talk about his _feelings_ and Sam would have assured Bucky that he could do what he wanted, where he wanted, as long as he told Sam beforehand so the girls wouldn’t be affected by it.

As it was, Bucky didn’t want his best friend to know that sometimes Steve was just too beautiful or too unattainable and he needed to numb his mind with a couple fingers of Grandma Rosenstein’s favorite drink before he could attempt sleep. Besides, Sam was tipsy himself at the moment, so Bucky didn’t really think that kettle would be calling his particular pot 'black' anytime soon. 

He’d just chained his third cigarette from his second when he heard the back door open. He was about to crawl back through his window when he heard his name.

“So, Barnes hightailed it pretty fast, didn’t he?” Tony asked, his upper Manhattan accent lilting into the cold night air.

He could practically hear Steve shrug, as he did whenever he wanted to be noncommittal. “He’s had a rough day. That Peter guy stood him up and I don’t think he was feeling all that festive.”

Tony hummed and let it drop. Bucky saw their shadows move in the light from the window, until they settled on the swinging bench in front of the window. He’d grown accustomed to the move from Steve, as it was something he’d done on occasion at other points Bucky had been on the roof.

Bucky tried to think of a way he could crawl back in his window without either of them noticing, but it would cause too much noise, and too much snow would probably fall off for them not to investigate. He resigned himself to have to listen to them talk about…whatever a fledgling relationship involving Steve would consist of.

“Thanks, again. For coming, that is.” Steve seemed nervous, and Bucky could easily picture him picking his nails like he’d done that evening.

Tony chuckled. “It’s honestly no problem, Steve. Birds of a feather and all that, right?”

Bucky frowned. What the hell could that mean? Steve had made it seem like it was a coincidence that they’d both been free, that it was random happenstance that Tony called about some gallery and Steve had mentioned the party. But if that was true, why was Steve thanking Tony? And what did they have in common that made Tony come to the party to begin with?

But Tony answered that just as Bucky had asked it to himself. “Those of us in love with one of our best friends need to stick together, right?”

Bucky’s heart dropped into his stomach. He almost threw up, right then and there on the roof of the porch.

Steve was in love.

Almost as if the world hadn’t actually stopped spinning with Tony’s statement, Steve let out a bitter chuckle. “You say that like you don’t have a chance with Rhodey.”

Tony’s laugh was somehow more and less bitter. “I used my chance with Rhodey and blew the fuck out of it. But at least I took it, unlike you.”

That made Bucky pause. Steve wasn’t exactly the most…romantically literate person that Bucky knew. Whenever he struggled with some relationship faux pas he’d committed, he usually came to Bucky or Sam (then Bucky) for advice. But he couldn’t think of anyone that had hit on Steve that Steve had rebuffed that would be considered one of the other man’s best friends.

Unless…

Unless Tony meant Bucky?

For a moment, Bucky was completely frozen, completely unable to process what he’d just thought. That Steve might actually be in love with Bucky.

Actually thinking it straight out made Bucky move to the edge of the roof, listening intently to the conversation happening a few feet below him. 

“It wasn’t exactly a ‘chance,’ Tony. He was drunk,” Bucky was drunk when he hit on Steve, “and it was only a few hours after Riley died.”

Bucky threw his hands into the air, completely overjoyed, only realizing how fucking stupid that was to do on the edge of an icy roof as he flipped head first into a pile of snow.

“BUCKY!” Steve was on him in an instant, helping him to flip out of the snow.

Thankfully the drift had been large enough that he hadn’t broken his neck, only severely bruised his ego. And apparently his brain to mouth filter, because the first thing he said after he’d wiped the snow off his face was, “Were you talking about me?”

Steve recoiled and Tony released a bark of laughter.

Bucky shook a couple more thoughts loose and continued. “I mean, are you in love with me? Because I’m kind of in love with you. And by kind of, I mean really, really, with the burning power of at least twelve supernovas.”

Steve blinked down at him, and wow, yeah, Bucky probably looked a fucking mess. Sitting on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, hands braced back to prop him up, covered in snow, frozen to the core in his sweater and sleep pants.

And apparently confessing his passionate love to a man he all but just admitted to eavesdropping on.

“Yeah.” Steve’s admission seemed to shock them both. “Yeah, I meant you.”

And suddenly Bucky was pressed back into the snow drift by two hundred pounds of sheer muscle kissing the daylights out of him.

It was honestly worth the cold he woke up with the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you need more Stucky trash on your dash, go ahead and [follow me](http://humanedisaster.tumblr.com) on tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(podifc) A Hand to Hold Onto](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817074) by [secondalto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondalto/pseuds/secondalto)




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